


Love the Way You Lie

by AutumnDreams



Series: Writer's Block [1]
Category: Spooks | MI-5
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:16:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnDreams/pseuds/AutumnDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started out simple enough; follow the writing prompts.  Who knew her life would spin so far out of control.  What has Ruth landed herself in?  Set early series 3 and going entirely AU.  This story is a re-writing of my first Spooks story first posted in May of 2012 on Fanfiction.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love the Way You Lie

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Writer's Block](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/33258) by TheChicaChic. 



> AN: In 2012, I began writing again after a long absence from the hobby. At the time, it was a battle between creative writing and the four years of legal writing I had studied; one that creative always seemed to lose. To overcome the challenges before me, I set out with numerous books and various writing prompts that twisted into a Harry and Ruth story called 'Writers Block'. As my first multi-chapter story in nine years, it came out alright. Reading it again now, there is much that could be developed and re-written. Thus, in the chapters that follow, you will find the re-vamped story now called 'Love the Way you Lie'.

_No matter that I do; what I try; I always manage to find the absolute worst men to date. Many would say that's me being dramatic; no, that's me telling the truth. I don't say that looking for sympathy or pity from the persons who read this, but rather try to provide the background to the story you're going to read._

_The first time I fell head of heels was my third year at University. I was reading the classics, surrounded by stiffs and dust, and so when a guest speaker; a swinging dick lecturing on compound interest and diversification to the would-be financial geniuses at Said Business School; whispered in my ear at some pub one Friday night, I found myself intrigued._

_For six months I found myself immersed in the swanky life of The City; weekends at the Theatre or some party followed by what I believed to be intense sessions of sex in his modern flat. It was the first time I'd had a sexual relationship with anyone and so what I thought was good turned out to be shit for him._

_Apparently even his wife was better._

_A broken heart had me burying my head in books for the remainder of University, and then some._

_On my second foray into the world of relationships, I was already immersed in the land of math geeks and code breaking; bored out of my mind and lonely to boot. During my second year there, I began working on the American initiative, analyzing large amounts of information for not only her majesties service but the American's as well. Day in and day out, I was surrounded by people either too smart to be bothered by me or too pretty._

_That included management._

_Until I met Bradford.  
My supervisor; an American expat still settling into the British culture and countryside; was as lonely as I was. Tall but thin with graying hair and a deep smile, he was sweet and the type of man women want to take home to their mothers._

_Men too apparently._

_It was a short relationship; four months; and yet it was long enough for my colleagues to find out. And ridicule when it ended. Especially when it became known that we'd never had sex; that the entire time we were apparently dating he was boinking the copier repair man and spreading the rumour about that I was uptight and entirely too prude._

_As I said, the relationship didn't last. And made me leery of workplace relations from then on._

_For many years, I wrote men off, afraid to put myself out there again. And it didn't seem to matter as no man was remotely interested in what I had to offer anyways. That all changed when I made my way to the land of mystery and intrigue. A year into secondment there...here...I found myself attracted to my boss._

_Something I swore would never happen again._

_And so to try and move past the fluttery feelings in my stomach, I immersed myself into transcribing recordings and preparing threat level reports. From the recordings, I thought myself in love with a man I'll call John Smith. A gentle man. Sweet. And into many of the same things I am. Margaret and Leo tried to offer their assistance and insight; even going as far to helping me slip files from the Grid and plan an entire evening where I met him as the woman named Susan._

_It didn't work._

_And that's alright. James still plagued my thoughts and dreams. No matter what I did to try and exorcise them; he held on tight. But I found a balance where I could comfortably work with him without embarrassing myself - or him._

_And then another geek happened._

_The latest example of my poor taste in men. An old friend from University and my previous work, he was one of the few people who did not ridicule me after the disaster that was Bradford. Upon my moving to London, we lost touch; not that we were ever that close; but a case of extreme hacking that caused the loss of numerous civilian lives. Because of the nature of the crime; and the continued investigation into all that happened, I can't discuss it here, but I can say, it ended badly._

_Very badly._

_And so I feel that perhaps it best that I don't actually pursue a romantic relationship. It's not as though I absolutely need one to be happy. I have work, my choir, my cats, and the secret friend hidden in the depths of my knickers drawer. What else could I possibly need?_

_Yet - I find myself wishing the man who watches me from his office window would admit what I think and hope he's thinking._

Nervous, she hits publish before she can delete the last line, watching as the screen blinks white for the briefest of seconds before stating her blog has been updated.

When she had agreed to this venture of online publishing, she had promised to be open and honest with her thoughts - even if the rest of the world thought she was creating a work of fiction. Addison; one of the few friends she still had from Uni; had latched onto the idea as a way for Ruth to express her inner thoughts and perhaps overcome the hesitance that prevented her from opening up to the general public.

If she was honest with herself, she would have to agree that there was something freeing in sharing her innermost thoughts in cyberland. Now all she had to do was keep Addison from publishing the bits as a novel.

Of course, Ruth's stipulation to even consenting to this process of writing workshops and writing prompts was that she was to remain entirely anonymous. Jumping at the chance to get Ruth writing, Addison had been quick to agree. And so, Ruth had spent a long weekend creating a watertight legend for the fiction site and blog, doing her utmost to ensure her colleagues would be unable to trace her.

And so, Jamie Pearson was born.

A 30-something woman born and raised in London who lived with her crazy cats in a flat with a sweet old lady downstairs and a playboy upstairs. Who worked for some person or another at Whitehall.  
To further protect herself; and her fictional world; she refused to connect to the writing site from her person PC. Or any PC that she would frequently use. Instead, three nights a week, she journeyed to various Internet Cafes around greater London and logged onto the writing site, spending an hour working on the writing prompt and publishing it to the critique of many.

After which she wiped the history of the PC as well as running a little program that Colin had written to ensure Internet history would be entirely wiped.

One could never be too safe.

Which with a quick glance at her watch, meant she had to leave. Her one hour in the cafe was up, and if she was going to catch the 7.30 bus home, she would have to hurry. Taking the thumb drive from the front of the PC, she tucked it into her bag and stood. Arms sliding into her coat, she slipped through the crowd and out the door, her mind already on the documentary she had plans to watch.

And so she missed seeing the man watching her from four seats over, a frown on his face.


End file.
